Shades of Green
by Rain Wakefield
Summary: -Lord Voldemort has been restored to power and the Slytherin students have been summoned to become the new generation of Death Eaters. But not everyone is the same shade of green. For a Slytherin who opposes is a ignominy, indeed...(dark!Slytherin fic)


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Title: Shades of Green 

Rating: R (Strong language, violence, & mild sexual content)

Ships: With the exception of one Gryff/Slyth pair everything else is Slyth/Slyth. In this chapter we only see one; Malfoy/Moon. 

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Full Summery: 'The very essence of power, greed, and lust hung like a thick storm cloud around them. It intoxicated their very souls and threatened to invade more than just their hearts. Its grip had started to make its reach for their souls.'

-Lord Voldemort has been restored to power and the Slytherin students have been summoned to become the new generation of Death Eaters. But not everyone is the same shade of green. For a Slytherin who opposes is a ignominy, indeed… 

-Featuring, young Death Eater meetings, torture, murder, despair, angst, & betrayal. (Warning: This fanfic is **NOT** recommended for those who _like _redeemed Slytherins, especially Draco.) 

A/N 1: -First off I would like to thank my lovely beta team for their fast and good work. **Amanda**, my long-time beta and grammar hound. **Sing, Keelie, & Laurabeth**, who joined me for this project. Thank you for your marvellous job.

-Secondly, I need to give credit where it is due. The characterization of Blaise is based off of **Rachel**'s portrayal of her in RPing. While I have tweaked/added/developed it some, her personality mostly remains the same as Rachel's original one. 

-Finally I have to give a shout out to all of us who despise redeemed!Draco. There are certainly not enough of us!

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK Rowling, because she is more creative than I am and thought it up first. Only the characters of Landon Reed & Baxter Finley are my creation.

~ ***** ~ ***** ~ ***** ~

Shades of Green

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Part One: Colour Blind 

November '96 - February '97

Blaise Zabini sat, bored, in the Quidditch stands. Slytherin was playing, but Quidditch had never been to her liking. Especially considering that the bastards in her house were sexist. Or, more specifically, that silver-haired, over-blown egoist, jackass Quidditch Captain, Draco Malfoy, was sexist. According to Malfoy, and several other like-minded fiends, only those with wands between their legs had talent enough to play. 

God, how she hated him.

Draco was good-looking no one in her right mind could deny that. His blonde hair that was nearly the colour of chrome was smoothed back perfectly on his head; not even one strand out of place. His features were sharp but well chiselled. Even his long pointed nose, something that she was sure would have marred the faces of the other boys, looked perfect on him. His pale skin, coupled with the hair and posture, gave him an eerie resemblance to a vampire, which, in some deluded way, made him all the more enticing and exciting. But there are some sins that are unforgivable, and even though Blaise thrived on superficial attraction, she did not put up with sexist bastards. 

It was the first match of the year and Slytherin was playing Gryffindor. Blaise already knew what the outcome would be. Gryffindor always won. As much as Malfoy hated it and as much as he was determined to win the next one, he never did. Of this Blaise was secretly pleased. In her opinion it served him right that a team, which consisted of several female players, always beat his male-dominated one.

As much as Blaise hated Gryffindors, the one thing she could give credit them for was the fact that they treated females equally. Their team consisted of four males and three females. Taking a second look…well, she had to give them another thing, too. At least two of the males were lookers. 

Especially the Keeper. Not that Blaise was interested. He was, after all, most likely a foul Mudblood. But he couldn't be faulted for looks. His sandy brown hair with its slight wave and his fair complexion was, without a doubt, attractive.

"Has Potter seen the Snitch!?" yelled the commentator. Blaise didn't recall her name. Until now she hadn't paid much attention to what had been going on. The chilly breeze that riffled through her long dark brown hair and tinged her fair skin pink had been foremost on her mind as she had tried to think of ways to warm herself up.

However, upon the commentator's exclamation, her eyes were averted to where Potter was driving toward the ground.

"Eating up Potter, Blaise?"

Blaise turned around to see Pansy Parkinson next to her. Pansy was a good two inches taller than Blaise, at 5'6. Her short, curly hair framed her tan face and matched her ebony-coloured eyes. However, those beginning traces of beauty were marred by her pug-shaped nose, which stood out like a hot summer's day in the North Pole.

"Excuse me?"

"You're watching him awfully hard…"

Blaise snorted. "Potter is ugly. The _only_ thing he has going for him is that scar. But not because it makes him famous. No, scars are sensual." 

Pansy stared at her with an unreadable expression. Blaise smirked. _Good, I've scared her…maybe she'll sod off now. _

"You know," began Pansy, who obviously was not leaving, "Draco has one on his…well, it's on the tip. You'd find it cute." 

"Cute? Someone hex me now." Blaise made a gagging sound. "I do not do cute." She grinned evilly. "Besides, how do you know he still has it? I mean, the last time you saw it was in 4th year…for all we know, he's been castrated." 

Pansy looked disgusted. "You are disturbed, Blaise. Honestly, the thought of Draco losing his most prized possession…"

Blaise snorted and rolled her eyes. "It's not that great. I've seen better."

Pansy gaped. "You turned him down in 5th year, though…"

"True…but I walked in on him and Moon the other day…and it was more than just a sound effects show."

"You watched?" By now Pansy looked beyond horrified. 

"Of course I did…what was I supposed to do? Leave?"

Pansy nodded a 'yes' to that. "And…they let you?"

"Not exactly. But they were both climaxing, so the only things they could say --scream, rather-- were each others' names." 

Pansy shuddered. "You're such a disgusting bitch."

"I would thank you for the compliment…but thankfulness is a nasty Gryffindork quality, if it could even be called a quality. Besides, I'm not the one who has actually experienced having sex with every male in Slytherin."

Pansy scowled and opened her mouth to object…but there was nothing to object, so she closed it. However, her lips did twist into a sly smirk.

"No, but I'm not the one who's still a blushing virgin."

"And you know I'm a virgin how? Just because I haven't slept with _you_ does _not _mean I am."

"Well, no…but none of the boys have bragged about bagging you."

Blaise raised her eyebrows. "Well, that's where the problem is; you're asking the wrong gender." 

Pansy's mouth dropped. "But…you're not…"

"When did I ever say I was heterosexual?" 

"Whatever, Blaise…but don't…I don't swing that way, so scratch me off your list."

"You? On my list?" Blaise snorted. "Oh, please…as if I would ever degrade myself in such a way."

Pansy was wearing an expression which clearly said she didn't know whether to look offended or relieved.

"I think I might add that Gryffindor Keeper to it, though," Blaise smirked. It was oh, so fun to disgust Pansy.

"A Gryffindor?" Pansy looked up and sought out the said Keeper. "Wait…he's a guy, though!"

"You were always so gullible, Pansy. Of course I'm not a lesbian." Blaise rolled her eyes. It was a wonder that Pansy was considered smarter than Crabbe and Goyle. 

Pansy sniffed, "I don't think I'll ever understand you. Guys like you, you know it, and yet you brush them off! Hell, you practically told _Draco_ to sod off."

Blaise shrugged. "There is absolutely no challenge in it when they come crawling to me on their knees. Besides, I wouldn't expect someone like you to understand me."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Simply that you are a flirty whore whose goal in life is to have sex with the best-looking Slytherin, and that your IQ barely rivals that of a mark on the wall."

Pansy's nostrils flared and she stormed off wearing an indignant expression. Blaise's face was plastered with a very satisfied smirk. 

"Slytherin Chaser, Reed, is going for a score…" broke in the commentator. 

Blaise watched as Landon Reed, a Slytherin in her year, soared toward the Gryffindor goal posts. His long black hair was pulled back into a ponytail and some stray strands had fallen into his face. The Quaffle tucked beneath his arm was under intense scrutiny by the Gryffindor Keeper. 

Blaise stared at them both with her almost royal-blue eyes, trying to decide which looked better. They contrasted each other sharply; Reed, dark-haired with tan skin, and the Gryffindor, light-haired with fair skin. Both were beautiful in their own right. 

Reed yanked his arm back and then pitched it forward, releasing the Quaffle as he did so. The Gryffindor swooped right at it, amongst a flurry of crimson robes fluttering about him, and caught it easily. 

"Finnigan stops the shot!" 

I

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Finnigan. /IBlaise filed the name away in the back of her mind. Suddenly, a loud roar of applause sounded from the stands of the other three houses and hisses came from the Slytherins surrounding her.

"Potter has caught the snitch! GRYFFINDOR WINS, 270-90!" 

~ ***** ~ ***** ~ ***** ~

Draco Malfoy stormed into the Slytherin locker rooms; his silver-blonde hair was dishevelled and fell like a mop into his face. His eyes were the colour of a storm cloud on a rainy day and a scowl was fixed upon his thin lips. The rest of the sweaty Quidditch team trailed behind him. Had anyone else been the Seeker, Malfoy would have cursed and berated him to no-end, but as he currently held that position, he would probably stomp on the Keeper and Beaters. 

"Henderson, you bloody arse, how could you let them score twelve times? Twelve bloody times!" Malfoy spat. 

True, the other boy was both older and taller, but Malfoy, other than being the Captain, had always had an air of authority and power about him. The 7th year said nothing as Malfoy continued to spew out curses. 

Landon Reed sighed and began to walk off. Malfoy caught sight of it and rushed forward, placing a hand on his thin shoulder.

"Where the hell do you think you're going, Reed?"

"To the showers," the other boy answered without missing a beat. If there was one person Malfoy could not intimidate, it was Landon.

"I don't think so! You are going to bloody hear me out."

"I'm not going to stand around and listen to you berate Henderson. I'm taking a shower."

"Like fuck you are. I have a few words for you as well. You should have been scoring mor--."

Landon cut him off, "Oh, sod off, Malfoy. I scored eight of our nine goals. You're the whole fucking cause for our damn loss! You're the bloody Seeker."

Malfoy's already pale face turned even whiter. An angry fire blazed in his eyes as Landon turned around to walk off again. The other players stood in complete silence. While Landon never let Malfoy walk all over him, neither he or anyone else had ever talked back to him. Malfoy grabbed the other boy by the arm and jerked him around.

"You _will not_ speak to me in that manner." His voice was low and dangerous. Landon wrenched his arm from Malfoy's grasp. 

"I will speak to you however I please," replied Landon evenly. 

"If you bloody leave my sight, you _will_ be pulled off the Quidditch team. Do. you. understand. me?"

"Clearly," Landon said as he walked off, past the showers, and headed off toward the castle. 

~ ***** ~ ***** ~ ***** ~

Baxter Finley was seated cross-legged on his four-poster in the Slytherin 6th year boys' dormitory. He was bent over an old, weathered-looking parchment, moving his quill over it smoothly despite the many wrinkles. His brow was furrowed in concentration, and his green eyes were intent on what he was writing. 

The dormitory door swung open with a load bang as it slammed against the wall. 

"What the hell?" cried Baxter, who hated loud noises. He looked up to see Landon Reed standing there, dressed in his green Quidditch robes, with his broomstick slung over his shoulder. A few strands of Landon's black hair was frizzled around his forehead and the corners of his eyes. His brow was covered in beads of sweat. 

Landon ignored Baxter and headed to the trunk at the end of his four-poster. Baxter rolled his eyes and turned back to his work. A few minutes later he heard Landon walk across the floor toward him. The next thing he knew, Landon was looking over his shoulder. After having read what Baxter had written, he exclaimed,

"Tonight?"

"Yes," began Baxter, "we haven't had one in ages."

"Two months is ages?" Landon raised his eyebrows quizzically. 

Baxter's face turned dark and he whispered, "Something is coming……something big." 

Landon frowned. "Are you sure?"

"Very sure." Baxter's eyes narrowed. "Your father did not owl you?"

"Well, he did…but all it said was that," here Landon lowered his voice, "the Dark Lord is calling a meeting in fourteen days." he shrugged. It wasn't anything special. The Dark Lord had been back for almost a year and half now and his father had attended every meeting that had been called. 

Baxter gave Landon a calculating look before saying, "Did he not tell you what it was about?" Landon shook his head in the negative. Baxter looked surprised and then suspicious. "You must be engaging in activity that is unsatisfactory toward the standards of the Dark Lord's followers, or surely you would know."

"Have I? Perhaps my father was being cautious in case it fell into the wrong hands," Landon said shortly. 

"Perhaps," Baxter replied, looking at him with less suspicion than he had before. "But I will still have to bring this incident up before the committee before we can extend you an invitation to the evening's meeting." 

Landon rolled his eyes. "Honestly, Baxter, I bet if you asked every Slytherin here if they knew, most of them would say no."

"This is true…but your father is in _his_ inner circle, and thus, he should have known and passed along the information to you."

"Whatever." 

"This is a serious matter!" hissed Baxter. "Do not brush it off like that."

Landon ignored him and walked off toward his own four-poster, collapsing on the bed still clad in his Quidditch robes. 

~ ***** ~ ***** ~ ***** ~

Tracey Davis was a young, blonde, sixteen year-old witch in Slytherin. Truth be told, her heart belonged to Hufflepuff, the home of her mother. Tracey was, without a doubt, loyal to a fault. She was a Prefect and worked hard on her school marks and doubly hard to try and break out of the Slytherin stereotype that so many had labelled her with. Slytherin was the house of her conniving father, who had been killed by Aurors during the year following the first fall of the Dark Lord. What Tracey did not identify was that her own ambitious desire to be recognised and respected was why she belonged to Slytherin. 

Of course, this pursuit lead her to do things that she hadn't wanted to at first, such as become a follower of Parkinson and, for the past three years, date Edmund Henderson. At this point she had done nothing big to advance her goal and was happy, for the time being, to be known as "Pansy's best friend" and "That Quidditch player's girlfriend.'" 

But things were about to change…and bigger choices were about to be made. Tracey, like the rest of the Slytherins from 5th year and up, would be faced with a choice, and their decision could and would forever alter the course of their lives. 

~ ***** ~ ***** ~ ***** ~

After Reed left, Malfoy had fumed and sulked and berated the rest of the team some more. Finally, after what seemed like ages, he let them go. 

Tegyruis Nott was not at all like Landon Reed, but he had his own way of dealing with Draco Malfoy. Mainly, that meant adding in a few vocal agreements and berating the other players so Malfoy's wrath was turned away from him. It had worked quite well this evening, in fact. Graham Pritchard, a Chaser and the youngest on the team (being only a 3rd year), had endured more verbal lashing than he himself had. The irony was that Pritchard had scored one goal, while he, Tegyruis, had scored none. 

But that's what made him a Slytherin. Tegyruis was cunning, sly, sneaky, and without a care for anyone's welfare but his own. He was certainly not the most talented in magical abilities, but he _was _the smartest Slytherin of his year. 

After having showered and changed into a pair of normal school robes that he kept in the Slytherin locker rooms, Tegyruis made his way to the castle and then onto the common room. 

"_He is risen_," Tegyruis said absently to the gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the Slytherin rooms. He did not pay attention to any of the details of the common room otherwise, he might have seen Blaise Zabini, the object of his affections, being chatted up by several Slytherins that he despised. 

Instead, his mind was on the evening's meeting. He knew that Baxter Finley, a dorm mate of his, had been working on the 'The List' all during the Quidditch match. He was anxious to see it and eager for the night's activities to begin.

Tegyruis entered the dorm to find Finley seated cross-legged on his bed.

"Almost ready?" Tegyruis asked. 

Finley nodded, then said, "We need to discuss invitations."

"Yes, of course…I'll find Malfoy, Rosier, and Capper, and we can begin." 

Tegyruis walked back down to the common room, determined to gather up the other three leaders of the Young Death Eater Committee. 

~ ***** ~ ***** ~ ***** ~

Heather Moon was certainly not the most beautiful person one would ever lay eyes upon. Her sun-blonde hair, which fell in ringlets about her face was, indeed, gorgeous but therein ended any natural beauty. Not to say that she was ugly. Not in the least. Heather was simply not a person whom someone of shallow nature would normally even think to look at twice; but look twice they did. 

Perhaps this stemmed from the way she dressed when not in school uniform. Tight, often too-small tops squeezed around her frame. Emphasising her bust and more often than not exposed inappropriate flesh in liberal amounts. Her trousers hugged her hips fiercely and flattened themselves against her long legs as if they were second skin. Heather wore a profuse amount of cosmetic charms, which gave her naturally plain face a pretty look. Dentistry charms had long ago corrected long, crooked teeth into the perfectly straight pearly whites that resided behind her wide mouth. 

Or perchance the Slytherin males (and females in some cases), and even the occasional individuals from the other houses, were attracted to her reputation, as she was not known to be conservative in the least when it came to physical favours and even sex itself, many branded her as a common slut. But Heather preferred to think of it as power.

Sex was power to anyone who learned to use it correctly. She could get anything she wanted with it. All she had to do was twist her victims into making promises of wealth or other things she desired in exchange for her body. 

Officially she was the girlfriend of the rather prestigious, Draco Malfoy. The Malfoys were far above her family's station. They were one of the wealthiest families in the entire Wizarding world, both in the United Kingdom as well as abroad and Lucius Malfoy's powerful influence reached across the seas and leaked into many a foreign Ministry of Magic.

But, despite this title, she still continued to sleep with others according to her own means and purposes. Draco knew, of course. That was, in fact, the very reason he had picked her as his girlfriend. Draco wanted no romantic entanglements and he wished to do as he pleased, not wanting a firm commitment to one girl. There was many an event where Draco had been expected to have a partner and his father had advised him that showing up with a different 'tart', as Malfoy Sr. called them, would not look good. Lucius Malfoy had suggested Draco get a steady girl for the many events in which he was to be accompanied. The arrangement worked perfectly for the two of them, both able to bed with whomever they wished without having to worry about a jealous significant other. Of course their arrangement also included committing those same physical acts with each other as well.

So when Heather walked onto the Quidditch pitch that night dressed in her scanty clothing not one soul was surprised to see that most eyes immediately went to her. 

Heather smirked and took a seat on the dewy grass next Blaise. 

"You look very nice tonight, Blaise," Heather commented, taking in the appearance of the other girl. Blaise had her brown hair pinned up on top of her head and wore a very fitting dark blue shirt (not as revealing as her own green one) that brought out the colour of her eyes.

"Don't flatter me; it won't get you anywhere. I don't do girls," Blaise replied briskly. 

"You really don't know what you're missing, then. Men can be so…_dirty_." Heather couldn't think of another word. "It's rather refreshing to be with one of your own."

"That's nice to know, Heather, but I'm still not interested."

Heather shrugged. "Fine, but it's your loss."

"And about the only loss I'm proud to have."

Heather glared but turned to Pansy, who had plonked down on her other side sometime within the last five minutes. 

"Hello Pansy dear," Heather said in a nauseously flirty, high-pitched, voice. "Think we should polish the finer points of our snogging skills tonight?"

Although Pansy was definitely straight she, did engage in snogging sessions with Heather for the purpose of improving their "techniques," as well as turning on the boys who hooted, hollered, and enjoyed the show. Before Pansy could answer, Draco Malfoy, Tegyruis Nott, Baxter Finley, Parlan Rosier, and Scott Capper entered the field.

The five of them were dressed in identical black robes that could have rivalled the night at its darkest hour. Stark white masks hid their faces and sheltered them from the fierce wind that whipped about the rest of the Slytherin students at the gathering. A still quiet settled over them and the atmosphere gave off the impression that everyone was holding their breath. Some were doing literally just that.

Heather was one of them. The very essence of power, greed, and lust hung like a thick storm cloud around them. It intoxicated their very souls and threatened to invade more than just their hearts. Its grip had started to make its reach for their souls. 

"We begin."

The voice that spoke was definitely the of Draco Malfoy. It had been spoken as a whisper on the wind but it echoed in the empty stands and rang in the ears of those gathered. 

Unbeknownst to most of them, those two words were a promise. A promise to end the innocence of youth. A promise that threatened to hurl them all down a dark path that would ultimately corrupt their souls beyond any restoration. 

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A/N2: Stay tuned! Chapter two will include the young Death Eater meeting, an appearance from Seamus Finnigan, and lots more of Blaise, Draco, and Landon. Plus many other goodies. 


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